


No Bad Situation

by deepdarkdrifting



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Plug, Begging, Biting, Bottom Jack, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, Top Doctor (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepdarkdrifting/pseuds/deepdarkdrifting
Summary: The Doctor plays with Jack. Jack fusses, and enjoys himself immensely.Absolutely shameless PWP. There isn't even any lead-in.
Relationships: The Doctor/Jack Harkness
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	No Bad Situation

Jack finds his eyes have wandered from the page he is meant to be reading again; he redirects them with significant effort and a sullen wriggle that really doesn’t help his situation. The plug is much bigger than the one he usually wears for any length of time, longer and wider even at the narrowest part, and as much as he tries to relax as the Doctor ordered him it is nearly impossible. He tries to ignore it and read his book; he tries shifting his weight; he tries closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. But although experience suggests that it ought to fade into an easily tolerated presence, it doesn’t. The size of the plug makes adjustment a slow process, and Jack can feel his sphincters relaxing incrementally without any conscious involvement on his part. His cock is hard and leaking from the pressure, and he isn’t to touch it at all, though it’s _right there_ -! And if it’s not his sphincters gradually twitching open, it’s the plug itself taking up more room than he _has_ in there, stretching delicate tissues to the point of aching pain if he sits still too long, but if he moves… if he moves, it shifts again. How long has it been?

Jack tries again to read, and makes it through half a page before he groans despondently. Rocking his hips slowly, he tries tensing up in case it helps, but it really doesn’t. The ache is spreading all through his body, his arse is on fire, and he wants the Doctor to come back and do something about it.

But he doesn’t. The seconds tick by and finally Jack whines and curls forward, despite the additional pressure, to try to rub his cock against his belly - he isn’t to touch, but maybe -

“No, Jack,” comes the Doctor’s voice in an admonishing singsong. “No touching.”

Uncurling reluctantly, Jack tries begging. “Please, Doctor, I’m, I don’t think I can do this anymore, please, it’s really uncomfortable.”

“You’ll do as I say, Captain. How many pages have you read?”

Jack sobs quietly. “Four and a half.”

“Oh, Captain,” the Doctor says sympathetically. “You have a long way to go. Best get back to it.”

“Can I -” _get up, touch myself, shoot myself,_ anything?

“No. But I’ll stay, if you want. Would you like to read aloud?”

He wouldn’t like to read at all. But it’s likely to be over with sooner this way, at least. “Yes. Please.”

The Doctor settles himself at Jack’s feet, his mouth gloriously, terrifyingly close to Jack’s cock, and smiles up at him. Jack closes his eyes in despair. “Go on.”

He reads without retaining any memory of the words at all, sometimes rocking slowly, sometimes sitting still as a statue, breath shallow, and when he falls silent the Doctor prompts him. He doesn't touch, but those delicious lips move, wet and soft, and if Jack is lucky he can see a pink flash of tongue inside; if he would just lean a little closer, just the slightest touch would be heaven. His cock is so slick now it would slide into the Doctor’s wonderful mouth like butter, those smooth lips gliding with firm pressure _all the way down_ -

Panting, mouth open, Jack is moaning desperately and that beautiful mouth is _laughing_ at him. “You’re looking a little distracted, Captain. It’s time for what I want, right now, not what you want. Stand up.” The book thumps to the floor as Jack stands without hesitation, then groans as everything shifts inside him. The Doctor gestures with his finger. “Turn around. Hands on the chair.”

“Gods of mercy,” Jack whimpers, as he bends and everything shifts _again_.

“No,” the Doctor says cheerfully, “just me. Sorry. Five, I think, and two more for trying to touch.” Without giving Jack time to prepare, without the mercy of a lighter strike to warm up, the Doctor’s hand comes down hard on his arse and Jack yells as the plug jolts inside him. A second strike quickly on the other side, a third near the middle so part of the Doctor’s hand falls directly on the base of the plug and Jack groans in pain and desperate need. He flinches involuntarily as he senses movement; the Doctor laughs softly and Jack relaxes, feeling vaguely embarrassed, and then the Doctor’s hand comes down again, even harder.

“Fuck!” Jack cries. “Fuck, fuck me, oh, gods -”

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor agrees. “But not yet.” The fifth and his skin is on fire, his arse aches fiercely, he has _regrets_ but mostly he has immense, consuming _need_ and he wants, he wants, he _wants_. Whining desperately, he leans back, searching for some kind of contact, more spanking, he doesn’t care. Without touching his skin at all the Doctor presses on the base of the plug and Jack sobs. “Not what you want, Captain.”

Lowering his head in submission as the Doctor pushes in, and in, and in, Jack tries to welcome it, tries to do what his lover wants. Then, exactly in rhythm, a resounding blow that takes him by surprise; Jack nearly collapses as he cries out wordlessly, and the last one leaves him gasping.

He would beg for more, if the Doctor told him to.

He might come if he got more, so he probably won’t.

A cool hand moves over the burning skin of his arse, soothing, tantalising, inflaming further. “Good, Captain. Sit back down.”

Jack’s vision goes briefly red in horrified realisation. “No, please - _please_ ,” he hadn’t thought that far ahead, had hoped somewhat vaguely to be allowed to kneel on the floor, collapse on the bed, anything but sit back in the chair.

“Sit back down, Captain,” the Doctor orders, his voice dangerous; Jack sits. It’s so much worse than before. The skin of his arse is in flames, maybe bruised, his cock is aching and lonely and untouched, and thanks to the Doctor’s efforts the plug pushes even deeper into him as he sits on it, slipping between his cheeks, solid and heavy and wide. The Doctor picks up the book, and Jack stares at him in utter disbelief. “I believe you have a page left.”

“I _can’t_.” He can barely string two words together.

The Doctor’s brows rise in surprise. “You _can’t?_ ” Jack shakes his head. “You aren’t going to like the alternative.” It doesn’t matter; he can’t do it. “Very well.” He goes to a drawer, and comes back with what looks like a thick sheet of rubber or plastic. Jack hasn’t seen it before. The Doctor grins, and it doesn’t look like the kind of grin that leads to things that Jack enjoys, exactly. “I suppose you might like it just at first.”

Eyes rolling back in his head, Jack falls back against the chair as the Doctor takes his cock firmly in one hand. He tries to thrust, but there is no friction on offer, apparently; the Doctor just moves with him, keeping a firm hold as he applies whatever-it-is to Jack’s cock. He stretches it around carefully, folding it over itself where it fastens securely. It is slightly warm and very tight and Jack groans hungrily and thrusts into the Doctor’s hand - and then the torment becomes clear, because he can’t feel a thing but warm and tight. No movement, no friction, no glorious slide against another body - no cool fingers, no lips, no tongue, he’ll have nothing at all but the tight warmth of his own pulse pounding in his cock, impossible to ignore. With a heartbroken cry, Jack opens his eyes to the Doctor’s predatory smile.

“Perhaps I’ll just keep you like this,” he says. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips and Jack moans. “I could. A little smaller plug, maybe, and you could last for days.”

“Kill myself,” Jack threatens halfheartedly.

The Doctor laughs. “How would that help? I’d just have to tie you up. There’s an idea.” Jack closes his eyes and rocks back and forth, hands clenched on the arms of the chair, letting the movement of the plug inside distract him from the movement he won’t feel on his cock. “Face down on the bed, I think,” the Doctor muses. “Oh, Jack, picture it for me. There you’d be, desperate for any touch, cock pressed to the bed but you wouldn’t be able to feel it at all.” Jack moans, unable to keep from imagining. “And there I’d be, doing… maybe nothing at all. Just watching you, watching that lovely arse of yours flex completely in vain, just listening to those delightful moans because all you’d be doing is shifting that plug in your arse, pushing it deep -”

Which is what he _is_ doing, _right now_ , and it aches so brilliantly, deep inside. Jack is truly terrified now, truly desperate. He opens his eyes, wondering how serious the Doctor is, and then everything is worse, because the Doctor is kneeling in front of him, fingers stroking his cock and he _hadn’t even noticed_ -! “Doctor, please, anything!”

“You could read that page now, I expect.” The Doctor’s smile is edging into demonic. Jack swallows nervously. Leaving his cock, the Doctor strokes lightly up Jack’s belly, his chest, to his throat, lays his thumb against Jack’s windpipe. Jack leans into it, desperate for contact. “Just needed proper motivation, eh?”

“Anything,” he promises, shuddering, regretting his earlier refusal as the Doctor had predicted.

Eyes dark and hungry, the Doctor says softly, “Go lie on the bed, Jack.”

Jack stares at him, breath harsh in his throat, mind wiped blank for a moment. If he does as he said… well, on the plus side, he’ll be watching Jack’s lovely arse, apparently. It _is_ an arse worth watching, by all accounts. The Doctor releases him, backs up slightly, and gestures invitingly. Without bothering to think about it further, Jack stands, closes his eyes briefly as the plug moves, climbs onto the bed, and lies down, cock down as the Doctor intended. His hips thrust against the bed; with the constriction on his cock he would be hard-pressed to resist the attempt, and he doesn't bother trying. He doesn’t hold back the hopeless whimper, either.

The bed dips as the Doctor seats himself. “Good, Captain. Finally stopped fighting. You really do have a lovely arse.” His hand slides firm up the back of Jack's leg, leaving a chill, tingling trail behind, and Jack pushes his arse up in hopes of more tangible praise but the hand lifts, leaving only light touches of fingertips against sensitised skin. “Stop that.” He lands another good smack and Jack cries out in surprise, pressing himself into the bed and then groaning when the tension makes everything around the plug worse. He relaxes just in time for the Doctor to push it in again.

“Please!” Jack cries, and the Doctor laughs.

“Please, what?”

Face buried in the mattress, Jack admits, “I don't know. Just, please?” 

“Please, this?” The Doctor pushes on the plug again, and Jack shakes his head frantically. “Please, this?” And then he’s _pulling_ on it, and Jack's sphincters tighten in reflex and he shakes, he can't answer, the feeling is _sublime_ and it doesn't stop - it doesn't stop. He has to remember how to relax, the Doctor is pulling gently but implacably, and he _has to remember how to relax -!_

Slowly he remembers, and slowly it moves, and Jack is making unholy noises as it stretches him again and wishing he could feel anything with his cock because he could be coming _right now_ and instead - instead he is feeling every moment of this fully and that's not so bad. It's not so bad. Jack is laughing as he gasps for breath and lays still, letting his body adjust to the lack of the plug that took so long to adjust to.

Humming happily, the Doctor is placing kisses along his spine. “Like that?” he inquires, sounding very pleased with himself.

“Yes,” Jack laughs, “yes, yes, that.”

“Hm. Don't get too comfortable, Captain, I'm not done with you yet.” 

“No, good, please,” Jack says, apparently confined to words of one syllable for the moment.

With a last kiss, the Doctor raises himself to his knees and straddles Jack's thighs, hooking feet over his legs, pulling his arms down to a comfortable level and pinning them too. It is, bar none, Jack’s favourite place to be - at the Doctor's mercy, or lack thereof, possessed bodily under his hands - but the strange sensationless squeeze on his cock is still driving him crazy, and his arse may feel aching and empty but he's not sure a cock is the answer -

He must be really out of it. Jack laughs again, because a good cock up the arse is the answer to _so many_ of life’s problems, and then the Doctor leans forward with a moan of relief that Jack echoes wholeheartedly as the hard length of him slides smooth as silk along the crease of Jack’s arse. Somewhere along the way he has shed the clothing. “Something funny, Captain?” the Doctor murmurs, moving slowly, his hair tickling Jack's back as he leans down to kiss his spine again.

“Forgot,” Jack mumbles. His hips are still moving against the bed, searching for any hint of friction. “Can't feel my cock.” It’s not true, it’s throbbing insistently, but he can’t feel anything _with_ it, anyway. If it weren’t for the compression maybe he would have been able to ignore it.

“That's the idea, yes.”

“ _Why?_ ” he whines, trying to enjoy the feel of the Doctor against him enough to drown it out.

“Because,” the Doctor says, “I want you to.” He kisses Jack's back, and then bites the spot, a deep, firm bite that makes Jack gasp. Kisses, then bites, kisses, and bites, all the while moving slowly against him, and soon Jack is simply breathing deeply, relaxed into the mattress, might as well be a pudding for all the higher thought processes he has. Pulling back a little further, the Doctor lets his cock slip into Jack's arse. At first Jack hardly notices; he is so stretched and relaxed it's no trouble. But as the Doctor slides deeper it becomes impossible to miss and Jack groans and pushes back against him, his need reignited. The Doctor presses him down forcefully. “You are right where I want you, Captain. Kindly, for once in your life, stay there.”

It's hardly fair, Jack has stayed in all sorts of places for the Doctor, very few of them five star resorts. But on the other hand… It is here, right here, that he keeps trying to get back to, so of all the places in the universe, _here_ he should be able to stay. Raging, unquenchable hard-on notwithstanding. He sighs, and lays still again; as still as he can whilst being held down and fucked, in any case. He doesn't bother trying for quiet.

The Doctor groans and shifts his hands to Jack's shoulders, flattening him to the bed and this, _this_ is even better. His cock, slightly cool, feels amazing in Jack's swollen, abused arse; sliding smoothly, not stretching overmuch, not thrusting too hard. Jack's body is heavy, the Doctor's weight feeling inevitable as gravity; everything is light in his mind. Between the two he feels stretched, and his cock is achingly compressed, held in an unmoving grip, and all in all there is nothing to do but give himself up to the remarkable contrasts the Doctor has built in him. Someday, probably, the Doctor will let him come. Until then… Well, it's no bad situation.


End file.
